


Utility

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Death Threats, Doubt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Six of Crows, Mutual Pining, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Soft Claude von Riegan, Torture, but it's for the plot, edel stans please don't yell at me, soft boi hours at the end, sorry for making hubert and edelgard the bad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: UtilityUtil·i·tynoun1: fitness for some purpose or worth to some end2: UsefulnessThe essence of being a mercenary is being useful, is being a sword for someone else to use. Really, it's no different with Claude.But after getting captured, Byleth is starting to wonder if it is(why she wants it to be)-Written for Whumptober Day 6: Please...
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth & Hubert von Vestra, Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, very briefly - Relationship
Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915390
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Utility

**Author's Note:**

> anyways this was supposed to be midoriya izuku whump but then i was stuck in a car for nine hours with the Six of Crows duology books and a headache and I was Inspired and now here we are

Byleth was losing her edge.

“Long time, no see, Professor.”

Lifting her head up, Byleth met Hubert’s steely gaze, trying to not let his grin unnerve her.

“Hubert,” Byleth said evenly, licking her lips and trying to rid the taste of copper in her mouth. He, like the rest her students, had grown, but his smirk was the same as ever. Deadly and dangerous, of promising pain, going hand in hand with his attitude.

Dimly, Byleth tried to recall what had happened. She and some of the Deer had gone on a scouting mission, but were ambushed...

Something squirmed under her skin as she remembered the fight. Were her students okay? Were they captured?

“In the flesh,” Hubert said as Byleth’s eyes scanned the area. She didn’t see her students anywhere in the tiny room. It didn’t look like a prison room, but some sort of house, and a chair sat in one corner. A fort or safe house, perhaps. Mentally, Byleth went over every fort and garrison past Grondor Field in the Empire, and that was near the place they were casing in preparation to reach Merceus.

“What do you want from me?” Byleth asked evenly, testing the ropes binding her wrists together. Tight, and bound to chafe eventually, lines already being dug into her skin. There were shackles on her wrists, which didn’t really make sense, considering she had ropes binding her wrists together behind her back.

“Right to the point, as always,” Hubert said. “Five years haven’t changed you. You still look exactly the same.” His grin widened. “Well... maybe a little more... roughed up.”

Byleth glared. Ignored the thrum of her arm from where she got hit by his Banshee attack.

“But I’ll get the point - Lady Edelgard requests your assistance in her goal.”

“I’m not helping her. I’m not betraying the Deer,” Byleth reminded him. They should both know that - she may be a mercenary, but right now her sword belonged to the Deer, to Claude, to his ambitions of peace between Almyra and Fódlan. She’s their professor, his Teach. Not Edelgard’s soldier.

A dark chuckle escaped Hubert’s lips, and Byleth suppressed a shudder.

“I suppose even mercenaries have their loyalties,” he said. “And your loyalty to von Reigan is admirable. Very admirable.”

Says the lapdog, Byleth thought but wisely chose not to say. At least she didn’t blindly follow him - it had taken ages to build up their trust.

“To be honest, I don’t know why Lady Edelgard tries - I know that you won’t betray von Reigan,” Hubert said. “If I had my way, I’d kill you where you stand, but Lady Edelgard thinks you can be persuaded. She doesn’t want to take no for an answer.”

“No. I’m not betraying the Deer. As their Professor, it’s my job to lead them.”

She’s not betraying Claude. It’s taken her ages to get to the level of trust she’s reached with Claude, having to cross some sort of rocky road after she woke up that wasn’t fixed until Aliel. Claude trusts her, and she wants it to stay that way.

Hubert raised a brow, smile never fading. Byleth narrowed her eyes. “I figured you might say that. But Lady Edelgard, as I said, is not taking no for an answer. So, I will give you some time to consider.”

Then, like a snake, Hubert turnes, and a dagger was being dug into her shoulder. Byleth stiffened and jerked, caught off-guard, and hissed when he twisted the blade

“I’m not siding with Edelgard,” Byleth said again, glaring at Hubert. Gritting her teeth to ignore the pain flaring up in her arm.

“I’d advise you to reconsider, Professor,” Hubert said, pulling the dagger out. Byleth winced again. Warm blood ran down her collarbone and her arm, and Hubert flicked the dagger, before wiping it on his robes. Then it snaked up to her neck, Hubert leaning it close and pressing on her neck just hard enough to draw the faintest amount of blood. “Otherwise I may have to use... drastic measures.”

Byleth felt a chill go down her spine at the threat in his words, but kept her back straight and gaze impassive, blank. Reminiscent of the Ashen Demon, of Byleth Eisner, daughter of Jeralt Reus Eisner, the Blade Breaker. She would not be cowed or broken with the simple threat of torture.

The blade pressed harder, but Byleth stayed silent, even as her fingers itched. But she did not give in. The Ashen Demon didn’t give in.

After a moment, Hubert stepped back. He was silent for a moment, looking at her with an inscrutable gaze, but Byleth didn’t let her unease show. There was something coming, she just knew it.

A snap of the fingers, and a magic circle, and suddenly Byleth felt something cold and searing at the same time wrapping around her body, and she gasped, wriggling under the heavy weight of Banshee.

“Well, Professor? What is your answer?” Hubert asked, his voice fading in and out of her ears. Byleth gritted her teeth, hissing when the ends of the spell dug into her skin, a tiredness sweeping over her. Stars drifted across her eyes, but she still glared at Hubert, shifting.

“I’m not… I’m not working under her.”

“Not even for all the gold an Empress can have? All the freedom to do what you want?”

“Money doesn’t buy loyalties,” Byleth snapped back, then let out a sharp scream when one of the tendrils of the magic cut across her lower back. Quickly, though, she bit it down, so hard she drew blood from her lips. “It doesn’t buy trust.” Especially not with Claude. “Even as a mercenary, I still have freedom.”

 _Do you?_ Some voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Sothis asked. _For all your life, you’ve been tethered to a cause. Your father and the mercenaries, then Garreg Mach and your little fawns. Now it’s tethered to Claude and his dreams. But what about your own dreams, Byleth?_

Claude had asked her that once, at the Goddess Tower. She hadn’t had any concrete dreams or goals, though, just hopes. And right now, she did have goals, but they were… simple. Get the Deer through the war alive. But Byleth didn’t have anything beyond that, anything that she wanted for herself. Anything applicable for after the war, no long-term plans like Claude, no dreams of her own to take hold of and make a reality. Nothing she could go down kicking and screaming to make real, nothing to claw up through with bloody hands like Claude.

To be frank, she didn’t give it much thought, because she wasn’t sure what she would do after the war. Would she go back to being a mercenary, wandering around Fódlan? Or stay as the head of the Church, like Rhea and Seteth and Claude all wanted her to do?

“Then, in that case, consider this a... warning,” Hubert said suddenly, snapping Byleth out of her musings, and she realized the Banshee spell had faded, leaving her free of pain. But with Hubert, she never quite knew. “I do hope you’re more cooperative next time I come, if for Lady Edelgard’s sake.”

Well, Byleth didn’t like the sound of that. But before she could say anything, Hubert vanished in a flash of light.

Narrowing her eyes, Byleth shifted, her hands, blindly searching for anything on the ground she can use to cut the binds, taking stock of herself and her injuries. The Banshee had sapped her of her energy, and made a buzzing, hot feeling run up and down her body, hotter in her back and arm, where the tendrils had made contact directly. Her shoulder was still bleeding sluggishly, oozing warm blood down her collarbone and arm.

Finally, her head pounded, and Byleth could feel the cut on her forehead shifting and peeling apart when she moved her eyebrows too much, and there was dried blood in tendrils going down the side of her face, she assumed from the rough patches she felt under the cut. Meanwhile, her hands flailed around her, searching for her dagger or anything she could use to cut herself out of the ropes binding her.

However, after checking, Byleth cursed when she realized there was nothing she could use to cut herself out of the binds. Let it never be said Hubert didn’t take precautions. She’d do the same thing, though, and she knew Claude would too.

Sighing, Byleth shifted on the floor, trying to make herself comfortable on the stone floor, unable to really use Divine Pulse here. Until Claude and the Deer came, she would just have to wait it out.

* * *

The next time Hubert came in a flash of purple, Edelgard was with him, Amyr in her hand. An unknown amount of time has passed, but Byleth guessed it was at least two days. She’d been given food and water, but it was disgusting and dirty. Still, she ate it, not wanting to lose her energy.

Byleth, at Grondor, had never directly faced her - Claude had instead, having more mobility than her. Once the archers and mages were down, he had traversed the plains of Grondor to battle Edelgard while Byleth had tried to talk Dimitri down.

Little good she did. Something twisted in her chest at the memory of Dimitri laying on the ground, bleeding from several stab wounds all over his body. But she pushed the memory out of her brain, focusing on the white-haired girl.

“Edelgard,” Byleth said evenly, meeting the Empress’s gaze. Even after five years, the look in her eyes was the same as it had been when she first met her.

“Professor,” Edelgard said evenly. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

“I’m not siding with you,” Byleth told her. “No matter what you threaten, I’m not leaving the Deer.”

“Hubert told me you might refuse,” Edelgard said, taking a seat on the single chair that sat in the room. She rested Amyr against the wall next to her. “I do hope you’ll reconsider. Your strength and experience will be valuable to the Empire.”

Byleth shook her head, shifting. Pins and needles ran up her arms. “It’s already valued in the Alliance.” Already valued to Claude.

Edelgard frowned. “But you could do so much more here, Professor. Why do you side with von Reigan and the Deer? Why do you blindly follow Rhea and the Church?”

“I’m not siding with the Church because I want to - I’ve never trusted Rhea,” Byleth says evenly. “I’m siding with the Deer because I’m their professor. I want them to get through this war.” They were the ones who comforted her after her father died, who taught her how to feel.

“A shame,” Edelgard said, sighing and shaking her head.

“In that case, what of von Reigan’s movements?” Hubert asked, voice cold and icy. “I suspect he’ll be going for Merceus next. I think it’s in your best interest to tell us of his plans to attack the fort.”

Byleth raised a brow. “Claude’s been keeping his plans a secret from everyone, including myself. You know how he is.”

“Distrusting as ever.”

“Well, he’s known as the Master Tactician for a reason,” Hubert drawled, raising a brow. “He keeps his cards close to his chest.” His gaze shifted from Edelgard to Byleth, gleaming darkly. “Such a shame he doesn’t trust anyone, not even his own Professor.”

“He trusts me,” Byleth says, even though she knows that’s quite not true. Even now, after all they’ve been through together, she knows he still doesn’t fully trust her. She knows he hasn’t told her everything about himself, and he still lies to her more than she likes to admit.

But trust will come with time, she knows. He’s told her of the assassination attempts on her, how he was hated just for being born. It must not be easy for him to trust after that, and Byleth will not force it for him. He trusts her more now than he did when they first met, and she knows it will continue to grow with time.

“Does he?” Hubert asks her, tilting his head. “Because I’ve distinctly heard Claude refer to you as the very core of your job as a mercenary - a tool to use.”

Byleth tries not to bristle at that, but is unsure if she accomplishes that. Because she can’t really argue it - he has wanted to use her before. He nudged her into her current place as the acting Archbishop, and followed her around for a month after she got the Sword of the Creator, wanting to use it, use _her_.

But she won’t give Hubert the satisfaction of saying that out loud. She just glares at him. Hubert, though, takes her silence as a yes, grinning.

“I see. How… tragic. Two leaders like you should be trusting each other, like I do with Lady Edelgard.” He shook his head. “Looks like we’ll have to use drastic measures.”

“I trust him, and he trusts me.” As much as someone like him can, it seems like. But she knows he trusts her. “Which is why I’m not telling you anything. Even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t.”

Another sigh from Edelgard. “I see. Such a shame. I liked you, Professor.” Something cold prickled along her spine as the Empress stood up.

Don’t be scared, Byleth told herself, letting out a breath through her nose. She was the Ashen Demon, and she would not be scared by the likes of Hubert and Edelgard. Sothis would be disappointed in her, then.

“Well, if you aren’t going to tell us about von Reigan’s plans, then I suppose we’ll have to force them out,” Hubert said, grinning. Byleth narrowed her eyes.

“Torture me all you won’t, but I won’t talk.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on that,” Hubert said, glancing at Edelgard. “With a name like the Ashen Demon, I imagine it wouldn’t be easy for you to crack, despite your knowledge of von Reigan’s plans and schemes. No, I have a little something else in mind.”

Byleth narrows her eyes, shifting her binds around and licking her lips, wishing for water. Or food. She hasn’t been given food or water in a while, and she’s thirsty.

“I really didn’t want to do this, Professor, but it seems you’ve left me no choice,” Edelgard said, and she stood up. Her hand wrapped around Amyr’s handle, and Byleth gulped.

Dimitri’s body flashed in her mind again, and she gritted her teeth. Opens her hand, ready to grasp onto the threads of Divine Pulse, and use it as needed.

 _Stall for time, Byleth!_ That voice said again, screeching in her head. _Stall, until you can escape or your fawns can save you._

“What are you planning on doing?” Byleth asked, tilting her head. “As I said, torture and hurt me all you won’t, but I won’t speak.”

Hubert grinned. “I wasn’t planning on that,” he said. “If you won’t talk, we’ll just have to force von Reigan to reveal his secrets.”

But she knew Claude wasn’t with her when she was ambushed, only a select few students, but instead he was at the monastery. She hadn’t seen Leonie, Ignatz, Felix, or Lysithea since she’s been captured, so she can only hope they weren’t captured. So what was Hubert talking about?

Edelgard walked over to her, Amyr glowing in her hands. Byleth reached for a certain stillness inside of her, searching for the feeling she felt in the moments after Sothis gave her her power.

“Let it be known I tried to be civil, Professor,” The Empress said, kneeling down next to her, resting the spikes of the axe on her leg. Byleth’s leg prickled at the feeling, feeling something inside her shift. “You were always my favorite. But, alas, it seems are paths were destined to cross.”

“What are you doing?” Byleth asked, her voice taught.

“A mercenary is no use without their legs. And perhaps sending a limb from his dear Professor to von Reigan will convince him to surrender,” Hubert said, and a prickle of something crawled up her spine, her breath hitching. She forces herself to breathe through her nose, but the calm she was feeling before is starting to fracture, turning into the dread she felt after waking up from the river and being told five years had passed without her.

“Don’t,” she hisses out, her stomach lurching as Edelgard stands, Amyr still lightly resting on her leg. Something akin to terror, to _fear_ , coils in her stomach, pulsing against her chest where her heart should beat. “Stop. Damnit, _stop it.”_

 _What are you doing, Byleth! Do something!_ That voice that sounded suspiciously like Sothis yelled at her. _You’re the Ashen Demon. Surely you cannot be outsmarted by these knaves!_

Byleth pushed the voice from her head, watching Edelgard raise the axe. She was sure that if her heart beat, though, it would be slamming against her chest, a bird trying to escape a cage.

“Don’t,” she repeated. Her fingers itched to use Divine Pulse, to tear and rend the fabric of time until before the ambush. This feeling in her chest was something new and unfamiliar, and Byleth wanted it gone.

“I’m sorry, Profesor,” Edelgard says, and her voice is ice, steel, and sharp. “But I will not allow you to get in the way of my plans.”

The axe is raised to its apex, and Byleth sees Kronya with her smile as she stabs her father, sees Thales’ grin as he knocks her over the cliff. She sees Claude’s face, but it’s too shadowed for her to tell if he’s smiling or not. Still, her chest twists, shoulder throbbing.

“He’ll never negotiate with you if you break me!” Byleth shouts, the words ripping themselves from the hollow of her chest where her heart should be. “I won’t be any use to him anymore!”

Edelgard pauses, Amyr flashing red, and Hubert hums. Byleth curses inwardly, shuddering - _why did she say that?_

Hubert chuckles. “Well, I knew von Reigan was a slippery one, but I never expected this. Although, it does fit with his personality.”

Byleth grits her teeth, Claude’s words echoing in her mind. _“I’ve been resented and hated… I don’t believe I’ve earned such treatment, but that’s how it goes for people like me. I grew up in an environment where it was necessary for me to think like that.”_ Hubert didn’t know why Claude was like that, and it made something twist in her gut.

 _So,_ Byleth asks herself, _why the **hell** did she say that?_

 _You said it because it’s true,_ some part of her said. Byleth shoved that voice out of her mind.

“You make an… interesting… claim, Professor,” Edelgard says, slowly, looking at Hubert with a frown. Byleth breathes out through her nose. Anger thrashes in her chest, but Byleth does her best to keep a lid on it. Anger would not help her now, the same way it got her caught in Solon’s trap five years ago.

“Besides, Claude would be pissed at you if you hurt me,” She adds on, adding all the venom to her voice as she can. That, at least, she knows is true. He may lie and fib, but Byleth knows that he would be angry if something happened to her. "He would never negotiate with you if you hurt his _Teach_."

“She has a point there,” Hubert said, his words slow and considered. Byleth holds her breath, waiting, teetering on a knife’s point.

“Fine. But the next time I come, I may not be so merciful, Professor. Consider your loyalties, especially if you think Claude would toss you aside so easily,” Edelgard says. Amyr scrapes the ground, screeching loud in the silence of the room.

Then, in a flash of purple, they’re gone.

Byleth lets out a sigh, pulse thrumming under her skin and stomach in her throat. She shifts again, trying to make herself comfortable again, but her pulse is fluttering too wildly, and the ropes dig into her skin. Light streams of blood trail down her hands, the ropes biting into her skin, coarse and irritated.

She doesn’t know why she spoke those words. She doesn’t know why she, the Ashen Demon, had said them to Edelgard. Why she had felt such fear there in that moment, when she’s faced death so many times before. So what had been different about that, about that time?

Claude trusted her, or at least as much Byleth thinks someone like him could trust her. And he cared about her, too, slowly opening up his heart and taking down his walls as they grew to know each other. He had been waiting for her when she awoke from the river, still believing she’d reunite with them at the Goddess tower.

 _So,_ she asks the dark, damp silence of the room locking her up. _Why had she spoken those words?_

* * *

Byleth next awakens to shouts.

Her head snaps up to the entrance of her tiny little chamber, tensing, gaze focused ahead of her. Shouts and screams come from behind it, and Byleth feels something warm spark up in her chest. This has to be the Deer, it has to be.

She’s proven right a few moments later when the door is thrown off its hinges, narrowly avoiding slamming into her. As it falls to the ground, she sees Lysithea standing in the doorway, blood on her hair and the smell of burnt flesh enters the room. The albino smiles when she sees Byleth, though.

“She’s in here!” She calls out, looking over her shoulder before ducking into the room. Byleth feels the knots that were in his chest loosen up.

“Lysithea,” Byleth says as her former student kneels down next to her, her eyes darting over her body, probably looking over her for wounds. “Thanks for coming. Sorry I got caught.”

“Hmm, it happens to the best of us, Professor. I’m just glad you’re okay. Or, as okay as you can be,” Lysithea tells her, but that still does not make her feel any better about getting captured. She’s the Ashen Demon, and Claude’s right-hand man in the war. Byleth shouldn’t be getting captured in the first place, much less need saving.

The bitterness curls in her gut.

“Teach!” Claude’s voice calls, and then he appears in the doorway a moment later, hair messy and Failnaught in his hands. A strained, fake smile appears on his face, too, and the bitterness in her gut grows.

_“He’ll never negotiate with you if you break me! I won’t be any use to him anymore!”_

“Claude,” She says evenly, trying to keep the unease out of her voice, unsure of what else to say. He rushes to her side, Failnaught clattering to the ground, and glances up at Lysithea. They share a nod, and Lysithea rushes off, her shawl flapping behind her as she storms out of the room.

“You okay, Teach?” Claude asks, voice soft, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek, and Byleth shudders under the touch. His lips press into a thin line, green eyes hardening, and his thumb rests just over the cut on her forehead. “Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine now,” she told him. No need to tell him about Edelgard’s threat or Hubert’s Banshee spell. “Just a little roughed up.”

Claude doesn’t look convinced, his eyes darting to her shoulder, where the knife had been dug in. The wound had long faded to a dull buzz, much like the wound on her back. He’s silent for a few moments, drawing out some lockpicks from a satchel at his waist and freeing her legs from the binds.

“Marianne’s on her way,” Claude says after a moment, his hands floundering behind her back until they come to rest on her own hands, with the lockpicks disappearing. Then, with a flick of his wrist, a dagger appears in his hands, and the ropes are being cut mere moments later, loosening and falling to the ground. Pins and needles start to prickle at the irritated patches of skin, and when she brings her hands up, her wrists are red and cracked, bleeding sluggishly in a few places.

Gently, Claude takes her hands, being careful to avoid the irritated skin, and stands up. He tugs once, twice, and Byleth lets him help her up to her feet. When she stands, a bout of dizziness hits her, and she sways. But then Claude is pulling her into something reminiscent of a hug, arms wrapped around her shoulders, and keeping her upright.

“I got you, my friend,” he says, voice low, as if it’s something for only the two of them to hear. It makes Byleth want, but she’s not sure what she wants.

She shoves that little voice and the words she spoke out of her mind.

* * *

Byleth starts avoiding Claude a bit more after she gets back.

Not all the time, and it’s not like she means to, but… every time she sees Claude, all she can think about are the words she shouted at Edelgard.

By the time Claude and the Deer had come to save her, Byleth had pinpointed the other reason why it bugged her so much, other than simply instituting the idea that Claude would do something like that - toss her to the side because she had no use anymore.

For as long as she can remember, she’s never been afraid of dying. But Hubert’s words rang true; _“A mercenary is no use without their legs.”_

What good a soldier is she without her legs? How could she weird the Sword of the Creator and cut down the barriers between Fódlan and Almyra like Claude wanted her to do without her legs? How could she protect her Deer without her legs, without the ability to step onto a battlefield and fight with them? She had asked herself those questions while she waited and in the days after her rescue, looking for a response, and eventually, looking for the source of where it came from.

After a good while of thinking, Byleth had narrowed down the roots of those questions, and answered the one of why she had felt such fear at that moment. It was usefulness.

The thing is, the life, the essence, of being a mercenary is being useful, being a tool for someone to use. A sword wielded by a noble or a king or a head of a town to do a task, to take out bandits or pirates or Demonic Beasts or save a life. The stronger, the better, she is, the more she can do, the safer she is, and the more money she can bring in for the troop. The more lives she can save. The more people she can protect. She had no mind or no goals of her own, and simply went along with who paid her.

Claude, to some extent, was using the same way. She thinks part of the reason why she stayed so long, why she hadn’t yet taken up his offer to leave and not come back, was because here, she was worth something, and it gave her life some semblance of the normalcy Byleth knew before coming to Garreg Mach. She may have been a tool for Claude to use, but when was the last time when she wasn’t? When was the last time she’d done something for herself?

That, perhaps, was why the words she spoke had some amount of truth to it. Without her legs, she was of no use to anyone. No use to Claude, the very person using her sword, tactical and battlefield prowess, and position to help achieve his dreams. And she hates herself for thinking like that, for thinking Claude would leave her behind if she couldn’t do anything, because he wouldn’t. Byleth knows him, and she knows he wouldn’t do that.

Still, that little voice in her head doesn’t quite believe the rest of her.

Really, Byleth wasn’t surprised that Claude knew she was avoiding him. He was the kind of man to notice the smaller details and see the bigger picture as needed. The kind of man to notice changes _(especially when it seemed to involve her)._

“Is everything okay, Teach?” He asked her one night at the Goddess Tower. It became some sort of unspoken agreement that whenever one of them couldn’t sleep, they would head up to the Goddess Tower. Sometimes, the other would be there - not always, but enough. When both of them were there, they’d just stand there and look at the stars. Those times were often the only times Byleth caught any hints of relaxation from him, the worries and stresses of war fading away. “You’ve seemed distant recently.”

Byleth, for a moment, was silent, looking down at her hands, unsure if she wanted to say what had been on her mind since she was freed, since Edelgard threatened to maim her and strip her of the thing that made Byleth a person. Unsure if she could. Maybe, with her father, if he were still here - he might understand it, might be able to help her here, but he wasn’t here, she was, and so was Claude.

She shouldn’t be blaming Claude for this, shouldn’t be thinking about him like this in the first place, but… it kept coming back to her, tugging at the edge of her mind, refusing to leave her alone. The unspoken question of where’d she is without her use, her skills, if she’d be worth anything to anyone, to Claude.

Claude, for his part, didn’t push, and although his eyes didn’t leave her, calculating and deep and tinged with the barest hint of worry, he was silent, not pressing her for details or for her to speak. It was the same thing she did the few and far-in between times Claude spoke about his own past. He’d never go into full detail, and Byleth never asked him to, but sometimes he’d share just a little bit more than he normally would.

Maybe, it was this silence that encouraged her to speak as well, quiet as the words were.

“Edelgard threatened to cut off my leg.”

A sharp intake of breath. “She did?”

Byleth nodded. “She did. She… she wanted to… to send it to you. A warning.” _A way to make you surrender_ went unsaid - they both knew the implications, the deeper meaning behind those words, that threat. And even without seeing Claude, she could imagine the tenseness in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. She distinctly remembered something her dad told her when she found him after the ball had ended, and she had danced with what seemed like everyone in the monastery.

_“You and von Reigan seem pretty close, kid,” he said unprompted, uncorking the flask he carried with him at all times. A quick swig, before he let out a huff and handed it to her. “I saw you dancing with him earlier. He seems to care for you, a lot.”_

_Byleth had taken a drink of it, long accustomed to the taste of whiskey, although it was the first time in a while she actually had alcohol, being around impressionable students. “I don’t know about that,” she had said after she swallowed. Unsure of why her father was bringing it up._

_“You may not be able to tell, kid, but I can. He cares for you, more than you think.” T_ here was a certain note of wistfulness to his voice, the kind he really only got when he talked about her mom.

She hadn’t understood it at the time, why that wistfulness was in his voice, but now, Byleth thinks she understands. Thinks she now knows why. It makes her wonder, now, if he were there and she had told him what she said when Edelgard threatened her, what he’d say to that.

“I’m sorry,” Claude said, snapping Byleth out of her musings. His voice was strained, hesitant. “I… I didn’t know.” A pause. “I didn’t think Edelgard was the kind of person to do that.”

She wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince herself or himself of that fact - she had demolished the Monastery and killed Dimitri to reach her goal. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Byleth can still tell he’s expecting more, though. He’s not voicing it, not pressuring her, but she knows he’s expecting more. Expecting something else, more salt in the wound. She keeps her gaze focused on her hands, on the silver scar she has cutting across her palm from the first time she hurt herself with her dagger. She’s not sure if she can bear to look at Claude in the eyes.

She doesn’t have to say this, she knows. She can keep quiet, and Claude won’t pressure her, won’t force her to speak, and she can take it to her grave without telling anyone. He doesn’t have to know about her doubts, her doubts about _him-_

 _-but he should,_ that voice said again. _And you deserve to know if he’ll still care. If he’d still come._

“If that happened-” The words were heavy and bitter in her mouth, a hard thing to swallow and harder to throw up, but Byleth powered through it anyway, because it was going to drive her insane if she didn’t find out. “If that happened, would I still be part of the equation? Would I still be in the picture? Part of that world you dreamed of, Claude?” She shook her head, digging half-moons into her palms. “I wouldn’t be able to walk, to carry a sword, to fight. I wouldn’t be the Ashen Demon anymore. I wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.” _To you went unsaid,_ but Byleth knows he heard it.

It hurt to say, the words cutting her throat and her mouth, burning the way strong alcohol did, because she wanted to believe she’d still be a part of it, still be there, but - but she could never be sure with Claude. Not with all his schemes and lies and walls, who looked at the world as a chess game, determining what pieces should be sacrificed for him to win. If she outlived her usefulness, would he cut his losses and move on? Would she be left behind in the dust again while everyone else moved on with their lives? Follow in her father’s footsteps, and never speak about it, about the memories of when she was worth something? She wasn’t sure of the answer.

The answer scared her.

She glanced over at him after a moment, and he wasn’t looking at her anymore, but instead at the ground. Lips in a thin line, and jaw clenched, moonlight bouncing off his skin and the glimmer of his earring. Contemplative.

He’s silent for a few minutes, and normally, Byleth isn’t one to break this vow of silence they have, isn’t one to pressure him. But, she thinks, if this goes on any longer, she might have to. She wants - she needs - an answer. She needs to know if all this fighting is worth it. If she’s worth it. If he’s expecting more from her than she can give.

Byleth is about to speak, but Claude beats her to it.

“You would, my friend.” Claude looks up at her, meeting her gaze steadily, a tempest of storms in his eyes. “I’d still want you by my side, no matter what happens.”

Byleth, though, hates herself for not believing him.

Claude must see this on her face, and turns to face her, resting one of his hands on her own, fingers gently curling around her hand. He’s not wearing his gloves tonight, and his hands are warm. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like home. Stars shine in his eyes, and Byleth can make out the barest hints of vulnerability in the emerald green of them.

“You would, Byleth,” he says again, and Byleth blinks, caught off-guard by the use of her name. But something warms in her chest at it, because Claude rarely ever uses her name.

“It wouldn’t matter to me if you couldn’t fight, couldn’t cut a mountain in half or walk. I…” He pauses, swallowing, and his gaze darts away, sheepish, _ashamed_. “I’m sorry if… if I made you think like… like you wouldn’t be worth something to me without… without your skills. Without the sword.”

Another pause, and Byleth lets him gather his thoughts, focusing on the feeling of his hand holding hers.

“I… I’m not going to lie. I did think of you like… like a tool, at first.” The words come out slowly, hesitantly, the barest quiver to his voice. His hand squeezes hers, quickly, before he stopped, as if afraid he might hurt her. “Especially after you got the Sword of the Creator. That… that was selfish of me. I’m sorry about that. For forcing you into the role of Acting Archbishop like… like Rhea did.”

Byleth remembers, remembers how he pried and shot questions at her for a while, after she got the Sword of the Creator, until she snapped at him. It had taken, apparently, a trip back to Derdriu and a talk with Judith to build another bridge towards trust.

Claude speaks again. “I’ve told you about the assassination attempts on my life, why… why I make poisons. Why I look at the world as a chess game, seeing what I can do to win. It’s… it’s always helped keep me safe. Figuring out people’s intentions, snooping, never trusting anyone. I’ve been treating people the same way, as… as pawns and rooks and bishops and knights to use, to help me achieve my goal. Been… Been treating the Deer, treating _you_ , the same way, even when you don't deserve it.

“I regret it, I do, but… I’ve never been able to afford to slip up. I don’t have that luxury - it could’ve gotten me killed. It still can. And it still will, until I can see the barriers broken down and people getting along, no matter where they’re from or what god they pray to or what their skin color is, until I can be safe. Until I don’t have to worry about assassins and daggers in the night and poison in my cup.”

Byleth wants to say something, wants to say that she’ll protect him, but she has a feeling she shouldn’t interrupt.

“When I first met you, I saw you as a… as a pawn.” The barest quirk of his lips upwards. “An interesting one, but a pawn nonetheless.” Then he frowns, meeting her eyes once more, and his thumb starts rubbing circles into the back of her hand. Her mouth dries.

“But as time went on, you’ve… you started meaning more to me, my friend. And not just as a tool, but… but as a person. You always listened to me when I talk, you’ve always had my back in a fight and helped me grow as a person, you’ve never discriminated against me simply because of my Almyran heritage. And I’ve… I’ve never had anyone do that before. Never have had anyone look at me as more than a coward or a beast or a bastard child, just because of my mixed heritage.”

Another beat of silence. There always seems to be, whenever Claude talks about his childhood. Sometime while he was talking, he had shifted closer to her, close enough for Byleth to make out the curve of his lips, for her to tilt her head up just slightly to be able to look him in the eye. He said he hadn’t grown much since she fell, but he certainly felt taller to Byleth.

“You’ve done so much for me, Teach. More than you think. I’ve made it this far because of you, and with you by my side, I feel like I can do anything.” It’s reminiscent of the conversation they had a few moons ago, not too long after Byleth first woke up from the river.

“So… yeah. Even if something had happened to you… even if Edelgard cut off your leg, I’d still want you by my side, Teach,” Claude said, giving her hand a quick squeeze, before his other hand came up to rest on her cheek. She shuddered from the spark of something she couldn’t name at the touch. “It’d be hard for me to let go of you. I care about you too much.”

A part of Byleth had been expecting it - hoping for it - but she was still caught off-guard when Claude’s lips brushed her own, feather-light but real, a chaste kiss. The ground dropped beneath her, and the world around her - the whistle of the wind, the sound of the breeze rustling the trees, the glow of the moon and thread of starlight - disappeared, and all she could focus on was the warmth, the tangibility, of Claude.

“I’m glad,” Byleth said, her words sounding foreign to her own ears. She could feel Claude’s smile on her lips, a silent promise. _This would be enough._

**Author's Note:**

> head empty no thoughts just claudeleth six of crows au
> 
> [I Have a Tumblr!](https://ccwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)


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